One whiff of a barmaids apron
by i-escaped-reality
Summary: What could have happened between Lancelots knighthood celebration and the following scene? I re-watched this episode and just couldn't help myself! Episode tag to 1.05. Merlin/Lancelot


**One whiff of a Barmaids apron**

**Disclaimer: **I sadly do not own Merlin, those lucky inventive blighters at the BBC do. Bless their cotton socks for making it though!

**Spoilers:** Based on Season 1 episode 5, but no real spoilers apart from the general plot.

**A/N: **I do not generally sail this ship, but I re-watched ep 5 this morning, and after watching Merlin and Lancelot tumble out of Merlins room all disheveled the morning after the celebrations…well, I just couldn't help myself.

I hope somebody reads this, though seeing as there are only two other lancelot/merlin fics on here, I'm not really expecting a big audience. Oh well, I hope you enjoy nevertheless!

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Merlin blamed it on the ale, which in itself he blamed on the festivities. Not that he wasn't completely overjoyed that Lancelot had achieved his knighthood, he knew that there wasn't another man in the kingdom more deserving of the honour, but the fact that Merlin had been a guest at the festivities was the clincher. The fast flowing mead, or rather the after affects of it were almost enough to make Merlin hope to, in future, retain his role as staff-only at these kind of events. Clearly being a free roaming invitee did not agree with him. Easy accessibility to good mead in a celebratory atmosphere was a bad combination. In fact, Merlin was pretty sure that the serving boys were making deliberate beelines for him with their trays of the frothy substance. All he had to do was remain in situ, chatting away to Gwen, jovially people watching as they often did at these events when not called upon by their respective employers, and the frothy nectar would just appear before him.

It was the affect of the heavenly liquid which led him to light-heartedly, and progressively light-headedly enter into a game of 'would you, wouldn't you' with his mild-mannered friend. Naturally, Gwen had been far too subdued to publicly indulge herself in the game, a fact that didn't seem to trouble Merlin at the time, leading him to rather obliviously play along with himself. Effectively he had spent a good part of the evening monologizing the pros and cons of several members of the gentry, while Gwen politely 'hmm-ed' along in the appropriate pauses.

What the excess of mead, the heat of the great hall, the tempo of the music and the theme of the game had resulted in, was a situation that Merlin would be sure to be raking his brain to remember all the details to the following morning. Essentially, what all these factors had resulted in was Merlin being unable to draw his eyes away from the well chiseled figure of a man who had recently, and one could say rather opportunely, become his roommate.

He supposed that he could blame the resulting situation upon Gwen's refusal to partake in his game. Her dismissal that she would never have to choose between Prince Arthur and the newly knighted Sir Lancelot had left Merlin to debate the question himself. So really it was al her fault. Yes, that sounded about right. If Gwen hadn't dismissed the question, and then chosen that point in time to turn and chat to one of the other maids, Merlin would not have been left to gaze dreamily in the direction of the two undeniably handsome young men. Sure enough, he would have snapped out of it within a few moments and been distracted by a platter of colourfully arranged fruit, if it were not for the fact that Lancelot was staring right back at him; A meaningful, penetrating gaze that seemed to go right through him.

The moment was broken however when Arthur tore his eyes away from Morgana long enough to give a toast to his new knight, sending all eyes in the room towards Lancelot, and causing Merlin to sport his dazzlingly goofy grin, partly in pride for his new friend and partly from embarrassment at the realization that he had been staring at him so intently. Deciding that it was probably a good idea to get some air, Merlin slipped his way out of the hall, and made his way down the corridor, deciding that it was probably best to heed Gaius' advice of an 'early' night. However, in mid stride, it dawned on him that it was probably wise to inform Lancelot of his departure, and to ensure that the other man remembered the way back to Gaius' chambers. It wouldn't be fitting after all to have the newly knighted man discovered in the morning, sleeping under one of the banquet tables, or worse, slumped against a tapestry in one of the many winding corridors. Decision made, he turned and abruptly found himself locking eyes with the man of the hour, only several paces behind him. The air seemed to crackle as blue eyes locked onto brown, and after that, everything became somewhat of a blur.

He remembered those chocolate brown eyes, and then suddenly the feel of Lancelots lips on his, as they were suddenly face-to-face, as if he had moved the entire length of the hall in the blink of an eye. Merlin was enraptured in the feel of strong arms ensconcing his body as his own nibble fingers smoothed their way up the knight's well-toned chest. They fumbled their way back to the physician's chambers, miraculously arriving at their destination without physical injury, and without seeing another soul. Whether this was due to there being nobody en-route, or to their bacchanalian ardor would not be remembered.

The imbibed, passion fueled state of the two young men resulted in them crashing into the main chamber door, and sharing a few more heated kisses before theatrical hushing ensued, Merlin placing his finger to Lancelots swollen lips before lacing his fingers with the other mans and pushing the door open as quietly as possible. They stealthily, or as stealthily as was possible in their current states, made their way across the room, shushing each other and giggling quietly between heavy lidded lust ridden looks, and ascended the small staircase leading to Merlins own room. Once within the confines of the young warlocks haven, fevered kisses ensued as they, increasingly sluggishly, made their way towards the small bed. Miraculously avoiding tripping over the spare bedding strewn on the floor from the night before, Merlin gently pushed Lancelot down onto the bed, allowing himself to be pulled after, and somewhere betwixt decreasingly enthusiastic caresses and languid kisses, both men were lulled off into a drunken sleep.

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The following morning as sunlight began to splinter through the dust covered window, Merlin woke to the rather alien sensation of being sprawled across another mans chest, moving ever so gently to the rhythm of said mans breathing. He took a moment to enjoy the feel of the smooth warmth below his cheek, before hesitantly raising his eyes to peer at the face of his friend. Upon sensing the movement, Lancelot met the gaze with his own eyes. The chocolate orbs seemed to be filled not with the giddy passion, which had been rife the night before, but with an affable acceptance of their circumstance.

Merlin ducked his head back down attempting to stifle an embarrassed laugh before briskly rolling up to sit on the edge of the bed, stretching with his back to the still prone form of his compeer before hurrying a humorous,

'Well… that was certainly…'

'Interesting?' Lancelot finished for him with a smirk.

Merlin turned slightly to see Lancelot stretching. 'That's one way of putting it.' He smiled. 'Gah' he let out his slightly frustrated embarrassment and stood to scoop his shirt up off the floor, which had apparently been discarded at some point in the evening's _festivities. _Pulling it over his head, and tossing Lancelots own shirt in his direction as he sat up in bed, Merlin cast a slightly nervous glance around the room.

'Breakfast?'

Lancelot stood as he adjusted his loose fitting shirt on his shoulders. 'Breakfast would be wonderful.'

In an unspoken agreement they mentioned nothing more of the more eventful part of the previous evening, instead focusing on the ever strengthening vice that seemed to have taken hold of his head, Lancelot bemoaned his pain as they descended the steps, Merlin groggily wincing his agreement.

Any worries the two might have had of Gaius having heard some of the muffled curses and stumbles as they had haphazardly returned in the early hours was increased by him being stood at the ready with a rather potent mix of his by now infamous hangover cure. Infamous to Merlin at least; he really did need to stop being such a lightweight, especially in light of the fact that the kitchen staff seemed to have made a sport out of taking him out to the local tavern to see how many tankards it took to have him stood on the table singing folk songs at the top of his lungs. Though if Gaius had noted the fact that through the open door to Merlins room there was no evidence of a makeshift bed having been set up last night, or the fact that the two young men looked more than usually disheveled as they trudged down the small steps into the main chamber he didn't say a word. Nor did he mention anything when, after swallowing the restorative he had provided them with, and both men had perked up, they increasingly took on the appearance of the boy who got his hand caught in the biscuit barrel. Luckily, the subject didn't come up. What they didn't see however as the young men sat down to eat, was Gaius' ever-present knowing grin, which he tactfully subdued as he turned to join them.

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**A/N:** So what did you think? It's my first, and possibly only Merlin fic dependant on reviews. So please let me know if it was entirely dreadful, be kind though! Thanks for reading.


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